Even If
by no-ruin
Summary: Even if he proved Kirk wrong, he'd never agree with him.


**Genre:** Romance, Hurt/Comfort  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> J. Kirk, Spock  
><strong>Series:<strong> Star Trek: 2009  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Word Count:<strong> 1,596  
><strong>Length:<strong> One-Shot  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Swearing, M/M  
><strong>Prompt:<strong> "Even if you prove me wrong, I won't agree with you."

* * *

><p>His First Officer paused before speaking. "Endangering yourself like that was highly illogical, Captain." There was an undecipherable gleam in his eye and – <em>goddamn <em>– it was pissing Jim off.

Kirk leaned against the desk located in his private quarters, the metal corner digging into his upper thighs rather violently. Commander Spock had just been invited in, due to his apparent need to converse with him. Jim had a feeling it would've been about the recent mission, but that didn't mean he was going to take it any better.

Jim had the lights lower than they would normally be, since he had been planning on resting a bit before alpha shift in exactly 0210 hours, when Spock had requested entry to his quarters. He still deemed physically able to join alpha shift with him, despite any injuries either of them had. Quite surprising due to McCoy's love for bothering injured members on the ship – in particular the both of them.

"For the last time, Spock, we're off duty. Call me Jim." There was an edge to his voice as the irritation began to make itself known, almost crawling up from his stomach and into his throat. He'd kept it under wraps for days; it had only been a matter of time, really.

Spock, as per fucking usual, simply brushed off his request, something that irritated Jim more often than not. He continued on, his hands clasped behind his back in such an infuriatingly formal way that it made Jim want to grab those –_ sensitive _– hands of his and forcibly remove them from their position at the half-Vulcan's back.

"From my observations, it would have been far more sensible for you to remain onboard and let Ensign Jones come to my aid. There would have only been a four-six-point-five-three-two-nine-eight percent chance of failure had you waited." His seemingly blank expression – _never blank to Jim _– became clear, the gleam in his eye now obvious.

By god, Spock – _Vulcan_ _Spock_, _emotionally-handicapped, I-refuse-to-open-up-about-anything_ _Spock_ – was furious. Jim had never, _ever_ heard him take something out to the fifth decimal point when they weren't discussing star charts or defense tactics.

Something ignited in Jim, and his slight shock turned to rage in a matter of seconds, his hands clenching against the edge of his desk until his knuckles turned white.

"If I had waited, Jones wouldn't have made it in time. You'd be dead right now. You know it and I know it." He said, shifting weight from his injured foot. He'd do anything to avoid sickbay, and he didn't need any vicious hyposprays, thank you very much, Bones.

But no, of course, Spock had to notice everything.

"You are hurt." He stated simply, looking at Jim's leg with yet another unreadable expression. Jim could only shrug.

"A little cut isn't going to kill me, Spock. A handful of Klingons sure as hell would have killed you, though." He stated, that edge in his voice sharpening as if it were an inanimate object. He never really noticed he had gotten cut on something until he returned back to his room after the mission, and he'd had enough medical injuries to know how to solve his problem. He'd been damn close to stitches, but at least he hadn't needed anything like that. He didn't know if there was some other way Bones did it, but Jim sure as hell wasn't going to stick around there long enough to find out.

Besides, he'd been far too preoccupied, his thoughts filled with beaming down and rescuing Spock; making sure Spock was okay. He had come to terms with the fact that – _god forbid_ – something happened to Spock, he would have no idea what to do with himself.

He hadn't been sure what he felt about the man when he had been his professor in the Academy; still hadn't been sure of it at the beginning of their time on the _Enterprise_; had only begun to get an inkling of what he was feeling for his First Officer when he learned of his previous –_ thankfully terminated _– relationship with Lieutenant Uhura.

When Spock had lost his mother and his home planet, Jim had been the one to spend several nights on end talking with him about it. After a damn good amount of coaxing they had talked about his pleasant memories of her, and they both went into detail about their rocky childhoods. That was when he realized he was neck deep in whatever hole he had unknowingly dug himself. He still didn't regret it.

He never would.

That being the reason why, at Spock's next sentence, James Tiberius Kirk officially flipped the fuck out.

"Regardless of the…adequate solution, you endangered your life. You are a Starfleet Captain. I am merely the First Officer. My life is...," he paused, appearing to be thinking hard about his next choice of words. After a moment he finally answered,"…expendable."

You see, Jim had always respected that unspoken Vulcan no-touch rule. Except, of course, the time with the other Spock – his head still failed to wrap around that completely – and the choking incident – it felt like Jim's heart had been ripped out at that, but it had been his fault in the first place – but he was done. His final straw had been pulled.

Within a second Jim had left his position at his desk and had grabbed Spock by the front of his blue – _form fitting _– shirt, pushing him back and effectively trapping him against the door. He knew the only way he had managed to do that was because he'd caught Spock off guard; he wouldn't have budged otherwise.

Spock had almost no reaction other than the slight widening of his – _beautiful_ – eyes and parted lips – _what Jim would give to kiss them _– which, in Vulcan terms, was on par to a full-scale freak out.

Jim resisted the ever-present urge to throttle – _kiss _– him, simply settling for a tighter grasp on his shirt. His voice was so quiet that any other normal human would have to strain to hear him, but with their proximity Jim didn't have to worry about Spock not being able to tell what he was saying.

"Don't you _ever_," He started, accentuating the word by a slight application of more force. "Say that to me _ever," _– more force; _chest to chest now_ – "again." Blue eyes stayed locked with brown, the first filled with rage, and heart, and sadness, and – _goddamnit all _– love.

What nearly killed Jim was when Spock leaned just that little bit closer, that few inches nearer and whispered to him. "If you had perished, I…," Spock cut himself off this time, unable to finish the sentence. Jim didn't need him to; he felt like that every day.

Spock reached up and placed his own hands on Jim's, emotions from Spock crashing into him, his own surely doing the same. Jim's grip softened immediately, his hands coming to rest flat on Spock's chest. Their heart beats mirrored each other – _so fast _– exactly the same – _overwhelming_ –

There was so much happiness emanating from Spock. _Happiness. Joy. Relief._

_Love._

He didn't know how long they had been gazing into each other's eyes, revealing their emotions without so much as a word. All he knew was at one point they both moved their heads, shutting their eyes and inching forward – _so close _–

Their lips met with a flare of emotion and heightened heartbeats; they shared a shy, tentative – _absolutely perfect _– first kiss. When they pulled apart, their emotions were almost completely indefinable from the others.

_Happiness._

_Joy._

_Relief. _

Jim traced the side of Spock's face as Spock put his free hand on Jim's shoulder. They entwined their fingers, all tension gone from the both of them. Jim smiled at Spock; not one of his – _over-confident_ – Captain – _fake _– smiles, but a pure one. Completely genuine. He could see the light in Spock's eyes and the slight upturn of his lips, unnoticeable to anyone who didn't know where to look. It felt like his life was finally complete. Any empty hole of loneliness was filled, overstuffed, forgotten. He had someone now.

"Even if you prove me wrong, I'll never agree with you. You're worth more than you could never imagine."

They didn't need words to express it, they never had. They had always conveyed it; everything seemed blatantly obvious to them both now. There was no more skirting around it, there was no more wanting to. Their emotions spoke it all as their lips connected in another sweet kiss – _the beginning of many to come _–

_I love you._


End file.
